


a long way down

by dontletyourheartdistractyou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (attempt at it at least), (talked about in detail), Break Up, Dark Comedy, Death, Depression, F/F, Homelessness, Multi, Murder, Oh also, Pre-Relationship, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, WARNING: POSSIBLY VERY TRIGGERING, along with mentions of, also!, and, and as well as everything else, based on a book of the same name as this fanfic, just so everyone can stay away from any triggers, plus - Freeform, s, talk of both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontletyourheartdistractyou/pseuds/dontletyourheartdistractyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, I never thought when I'd get up here I'd meet a cute homeless Asian and a pizza delivery girl and that ten minutes later we'd be plotting revenge on the people who ruined their lives."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a long way down

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for my network's polyshipathon. Basically, I've had hella hard core writers block this past month, so the majority of this (at least 90% of it) was written today, so it may be bad, I don't really know. The idea was constant though, and I hope I did it justice.

There are so many different views on what being broken really entails, but for Malia, it's the emptiness and numbness that never really leaves.

Some may question why she would know this, when she can't feel anything through the haze of depression that is her life, but the thing is, it's all the doctor's tell her. It's all her father tells her. It's all anyone tells her, actually.

People call her fucked up and she can't really blame them when she's here, legs dangling off the edge of the roof, a cigarette between her fingers, the frost biting at her uncovered skin.

The thing is, Malia isn't exactly sure why she's up here, on the rightly named Toppers' House. 

Maybe it's because of the thrill (if only she could feel it), or maybe it's because it's the quietest place in the city at this hour. Only those wanting to jump come up here, and Malia wouldn't mind meeting some familiar lost souls.

Malia would like that. Meeting someone who gets it. Some one who understands. She doesn't want comfort, because what help will that do? No, what she wants is someone to listen to her, for once. But, unfortunately, only someone who is as unhealthy as she is would honestly hold on to every single one of her words, would pay special attention to the way her face twists and pulls, would take in any little bits of emotion and mark them down for what they really are.

She blows out smoke through her lips, watching the wisps leave her, as everything does, the cold stone making her shiver. While Malia can't feel much in terms of emotion, she can feel the freezing air attacking her legs, and if she was in a better state, she would be irritated as hell, spewing curses, but all she's worried about is getting a cold and having to deal with more fake reassurances and panic.

"Excuse me..."

The voice is sudden, unexpected, but Malia deserves some credit, because she doesn't jump in surprise. She simply turns on the spot, staring at whoever decided to interrupt her alone time.

The girl is petite, with big eyes that are vulnerable and wide, looking, unsurprisingly, like shattered glass. She's fiddling with the sleeve of a jumper that's at least three sizes too big for her, her hair messy and unkempt, falling down her shoulders with a greasy shine, ends tangled together. That's enough to tell her that this girl is homeless, with the lack of shoes and tattered pants that only reach just below her knees.

Even with that, the girl's, well, beautiful. Tears sticking to her lashes and lips curled into a frown, she's pretty in a ghastly way, skin turned pale with the cold, looking barely alive. If it wasn't for the fact the girl was probably going to jump off the edge of a building, Malia would have called her adorable.

"Are you going to be long?" she asks timidly, eyes downcast to the floor, and Malia, if she was a nicer person, would have gotten up and left the girl alone. But she isn't.

"Probably," she replies, shrugging her shoulders. "If you want, you could come and sit next to me until I'm done."

The girl - now being referred to as the Adorable Asian Girl in Malia's mind - looks horrified by the idea, but Malia's face must be pulled into a expression dark or persuasive enough for her to plop herself onto the edge, not scuttling away from it in horror like she would have expected from a girl like this.

She sits, hunched over, eyes flickering to Malia ever couple of seconds, as puffs of smoke fill the air.

The silence would have been comforting if she was by herself, but now it's awkward and deafening, the sounds of cars below doing nothing to help, so Malia sticks her hand out, letting the hand occupied with the cigarette drop. "I'm Malia."

The girl looks at her strangely, eyebrow raised, but their hands meet and she murmurs a reply, "Kira."

"Are you here to..." Kira trails off, but Malia knows exactly what she wants to say.

"Jump?" 

Kira confirms it with a nod, one that seems both stiff and nonchalant. This girl doesn't seem to have a problem with the topic, but she obviously feels odd about asking, as if it should be clear. Honestly, Malia doesn't blame her for assuming. It's Toppers' House, why else would she be here?

"No," she goes for the truthful answer, noticing the way the other's head snaps to her direction in confusion. "There's not really much else of this city that's quiet, is there? Here is the best place I've got to find some peace."

The quiet that follows isn't as heavy as before, but the sound of a door creaking is loud enough for them to both hear, twisting around to face the door.

"Uh, any of you order pizza?"

The girl standing at the door, a smile on her face despite the situation, is somewhat of a beauty, pretty face only marred by black under her eyes, something akin to mascara dried beneath her lashes. Her dainty hands are pulling a box from a bag and the smell of freshly baked pizza hits her head on, hunger she hadn't noticed making her mouth salivate. 

Next to her, Kira twitches, uncomfortable as ever, but dammit, Malia's hungry.

"If I said no, would I still get some?"

The brunette laughs, walking over and plopping herself down, scuttling away from the edge. And that's how Malia ended up eating slices of pizza with two suicidal girls on top of one of the most notorious buildings in California.

"I'm Allison," the girls tells them, the light hitting just the right angle to make her eyes sparkle. If only the mascara hadn't tainted her pale skin, the sight would have been a lot better to handle.

"Malia," she replies through a mouth full of food. "And that's Kira."

"So," Allison questions after swallowing a small of amount of pizza. "What's got you guys up here?"

After gaining a couple of confused looks, she clarifies. "You know, broken past? Bad break up? Why are you guys up here?"

"Malia's not here to jump."

Allison raises her eyebrow, but continues on, "Okay, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Malia asks, brows furrowed, because really, it is. She's homeless so she must have gotten kicked out: she's too young to have a job and live by herself, so presumably it's her parents, or maybe a friend, who threw her away like trash.

"What?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're my age, so seventeen, not old enough to live by yourself, meaning you probably got kicked out by your parents," Malia states.

"My boyfriend's parents," Kira corrects. "They thought I wasn't good enough for him. What about you, Allison?"

Kira seems fine with flipping the conversation, but Allison's face contorts, eyes big and sad. 

"My mother, she, um, died," she murmurs. "The bastard who did it is still on the run."

Malia leans over and pats her hand, a soft smile on her face that seems genuine, for once, "I understand."

Malia doesn't elaborate, but she feels like she doesn't need to when the two look at her with a new level of understanding.

Out of nowhere, Allison giggles. "This feels like something out of a cheesy film. You know, like a drama? Three strangers meet on a roof, lost souls brought together by destiny..."

The three of them laugh, hands over their mouths, and it feels real, the chuckles leaving her lips.

"You know," Malia starts, resting her head on Kira's shoulder, feeling her stiffen, then relax."We could make it even more like a movie."

Kira looks down at her, her lips pulling down, while Allison gestures with her hand for her to continue.

"Well, I was thinking revenge."

"Revenge?" The sides of Allison's lips quirk up, but Malia's dead serious.

"Yeah, like life-ruining revenge. Like they did to you, only ten times worse."

They both tilt their heads, looking at her like she's crazy.

"It was only a suggestion," she mumbles, looking down, but Allison nods rapidly.

"Life-ruining revenge," Allison wonders, voice gentle but wavering with uncontrollable emotion. "I like the sound of that. I'm in."

Kira doesn't reply, but runs her hand through Malia's hair, so she takes that as a yes.

"You know, I never thought when I'd get up here I'd meet a cute homeless Asian and a pizza delivery girl and that ten minutes later we'd be plotting revenge on the people who ruined their lives."

The laughs explode out of the others' chests, and suddenly, Malia's laughing with them. Full-blown laughter, the kind Malia hasn't experienced in a while, and even when she did, it was less cheerful and more hysteric.

When the sun begins to rise over the skyscrapers, and Malia blinks her eyes open to black hair and brown eyes, she realises something.

The heaviness in her chest is still there, but it's less somehow, lighter and not as dragging. She feels less, well, tired and cold, the sun beating down on her, shivers no longer racking her body, and her eyes wide, awake.

She doesn't feel alive, no, but she doesn't feel dead either. There's a little life in her, life she didn't have, and a smooth smile curls onto her lips, and she can feel the happiness spreading ever so slightly.

She may be broken, but maybe, it's starting to repair.

Just a little.


End file.
